The winds of change~~

[shnpc]

WHO: Everyone!
TONE: Anything from fun to serious
RATING: PG-13+
WHEN: 20th - 23rd April
WHERE: All around the school
WHAT: Canon selves event! A seance gone awry has had its effect on the school, bringing about mental and physical changes to students and staff alike! Full details of the combinations of effects can be found here.
STATUS: Ongoing! Use whichever style you like.

[Spring brings change, but that change isn't always a good thing! Whether your character has changed entirely into their canon self, or only in part, please keep in mind that whatever they know/learn of their original canon during this event will be unable to be clearly recalled - disappearing with their past self - when the event is over. This is to avoid fourth-walling after the conclusion of the event.

Please also keep in mind that some people will not want to fourth-wall during the event! Make sure it's alright with the other player before you decide to do that. Above all, though, have fun!]

Comments

[rule_britannia]

[It is not England's fault, and poor England is walking about the castle looking just as confused as Francis feels. Half the time, he's thinking of himself as England, and the other half he's sure he's a student, and then there are the distressingly puzzling moments when he's quite certain he's both and thinking too hard just gives him a headache.

When he does run into Francis, he finds himself simultaneously startled and oh so amused. He can't help the first thing that comes out of his mouth.]

Bloody hell, don't you look a sight.

[fleurdelamour]

[Eww..he didn't expect to run into you so soon.

...Nor does he expect to find you so young. Ughh, God. What's worse here, teenage youth or middle-age looks? Francis would gladly trade with you, and he's sure it would suit you better, Arthur.

AND YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO POINT IT OUT BY THE WAY.]

Hmm? What is that? I couldn't hear you from all the way down there~!

[Not his fault you're a little shorter than normal. Perhaps he's exaggerating...a little~ ♥

Fine a lot. But your argument is invalid.]

[rule_britannia]

Funny. [He purses his lips, and though one side of him protests because this is a professor and someone he ought to respect, he can't help the wash of well practised and patient snark that rises up as he looks up at Francis.

Arthur rolls his eyes, and folds his arms loosely.]

Do you have any idea what this is all about, or are you just as useless here as you are in every other situation?

[fleurdelamour]

[Honestly, Francis doesn't remember being a professor, and he's used to this kind of behavior. Of course, that doesn't entirely excuse it!

He lets out an unhappy huff, looking affronted.]

Useless you say? And if I am so useless, then why are you asking me, Angleterre? You are just as ignorant as I am!

[rule_britannia]

[He lets out a soft 'tch' sound and tilts his chin up defiantly.]

Is that a grey hair I see?

[Why yes, he DID just go there.]

[fleurdelamour]

...!!

[HIS DELICATE ego FEELINGS. OH NO. HOW COULD YOU?]

How dare you?! I do not have even a single grey hair, you brat! I bet this all really is your fault, so you can have a laugh at the results! Well I must say, you have hardly done yourself a favor. You still look like a punk with caterpillar brows taking over your face, and who would want to respect a mouthy little child anyway?!

[You touched the diva button, Arthur. You asked for it.]

[rule_britannia]

[Smirk. Bullseye.]

Of course you can't see them, I'm surprised you can see anything with how poor your eyes must be at such an advanced age.

[fleurdelamour]

[WHY YOU LITTLE--]

I can see just fine! And I am not that old, you are just a baby in comparison. Do not project your problems on me!

[And by the way, he's going to swat you upside the head, you little hooligan! D<]

[rule_britannia]

[Ducks!

And now he's laughing, because he can't not. Something about this is just so familiar.]

My problems? I'm not the one with the greying hair and failing eyesight.

[fleurdelamour]

[The next part does not come out in English. Ohhh, he can get pretty imaginative in French...but it's rather tame, given how flustered he is right now.]

You are going to be the dead one in a moment you bastard!

[Pardon him while he reaches out to throttle you this time!! What is composure?]

[rule_britannia]

[Arthur bounces back, far more quickly than he would ever have managed in his adult state, and smirks.]

Far too slow, old man.

[fleurdelamour]

[Ohh, you burn him up! D< If he knew he could use magic, he'd probably be using it on you now. As it stands, if this carries on he might just accidentally toss something nonverbal and lamely ineffectual at you by accident!

...He is France after all.

Oh. Yes. That's right, he's France.]

Oh, forget it! I am not wasting another second on you, silly little bushy-brow brat! I will find my own way, and I hope that you get yourself lost in here!

[Like he's bound to do himself actually. Erk.]

After all, someone as wondrous as moi does not need the help of uncultured swine like you who cannot even figure out something as simple as how to make a soup without setting the house on fire!

[Well~ He's starting to feel better now.]

[rule_britannia]

Ah, now that is where you're entirely wrong. I already know where I am, you bloody clod.

[How? He's not sure. He has memories of being here, walking these corridors, interposed over his memories of hundreds of years of life, wars and endless political strife. The latter only comes to the fore now because of the person in front of him, someone that part of himself recognises.]

As for that dire excuse for an insult, I shan't even give it the dignity of a response. If you're reduced to attempting to insult my cooking your mind truly must be on its way out.

[fleurdelamour]

Well if you know so much then you had better tell me what is going on!

[He is not playing games with you, Shorty!]

And I do not really have to insult your cooking, it does that on its own anyway. I just felt it needed to be pointed out!

[rule_britannia]

[He puffs up slightly.]

I don't have to tell you squat. You can fall out of a bloody window for all I care, you French twit.